


Waiting for the Drought

by Qzil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Asphyxiation, Bloodplay, F/M, Gun Kink, Object Penetration, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qzil/pseuds/Qzil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg wakes up blindfolded, her wrists, knees, and ankles tied to a chair, and knows today's the day her boys will kill her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the Drought

There are three things Meg Masters knows for certain.

The first thing is that she loves Sam Winchester and Castiel Milton with everything in her. She loves Castiel’s gentle touches, his confusion at pop culture that comes from growing up in an isolated, religious community without television or books except for the bible. She loves the way his beard scratches against her inner thighs when he forgets to shave and the trust it takes for him to sit, perfectly still, as she scrapes away his beard with a straight-razor whenever she declares his beard has grown too much.

with a straight-razor whenever she declares his beard has grown too much.

She loves the way Sam looks when he makes a kill, loves how his eyes light up with pleasure as the smell of blood invades the room. She loves how full of life he is afterward, loves the bruises that he leaves on her skin when he fucks her after they kill someone.

The second thing she knows is that she was born to be their partner. She’s known it from the first moment she saw Sam on the news after he and Castiel had killed a young man in Idaho. She had been lounging on the couch with her feet propped up on the corpse of her own kill when she’d seen the report. After that moment, she’d known that she was meant to partner with them, and them with her.

The third thing she knows for certain (and it’s the only thing that matters, really), is that Sam Winchester will kill her.

He’ll kill Castiel, too, she knows. No one runs with Sam Winchester forever, not like his brother, Dean, was meant to. She knows he’s had other partners, seen them in the reports and in the papers. She knows that he’s had four partners since his brother died, and every one of them have turned up dead in a backwater motel, tortured worse than any of his victims.

She knows it’s coming, but she never leaves them.

.

She knows that today’s _the_ day when she wakes up naked in the motel’s stained chair with a blindfold covering her eyes and leather on her wrists, knees, and ankles.

Instead of panicking, Meg closes her eyes and relaxes in the chair. She’s watched Sam and Castiel tie their victims down enough times that she knows there’s no escape. Instead, she tips her head back, gently wraps her fingers around the chair’s arms, and waits for her boys to come to her. She doesn’t question why she’s strapped into a chair instead of on the bed (which is knows is Sam’s favorite method), or why they’ve tied her down so awkwardly.

She shifts in an attempt to get more comfortable and winces when the leather straps dig into her knees and ankles, refusing to let her move even an inch. Her legs remain spread by the straps around her ankles and the ones around her knees make sure she cannot scoot backward from the edge of the seat, leaving her exposed for whatever her boys have planned.

Meg stiffens when she feels Sam’s rough hands lightly run up her bare leg, stopping at her inner thigh. His breath tickles her ear.

“Are you scared?”

She shakes her head.

“Good.”

Meg braces herself for whatever Sam torture Sam has planned for her when she feels another pair of hands ghost over her stomach. Castiel’s touch is soft, loving, and she melts back into it, her body going slack in the restraints.

“Just relax,” he murmurs. “We have a surprise. Relax.”

She obeys when Castiel uses that tone of voice, just as she always does. He continues to stroke her bare flesh, his fingers ghosting over her stomach and breasts as he presses soft kisses to her neck and shoulder.

She moans when Sam mirrors his actions on the lower half of her body. She doesn’t stiffen even when she feels the point of a knife press against her inner thigh, but sighs happily when Sam presses it into the soft flesh and closes his mouth over the wound, suckling lightly. Castiel needlessly holds her down when Sam moves his mouth between her legs, smearing the cooling blood along her pale flesh as he probes her with his tongue and massages the wound with his fingers.

She thinks that dying between two gorgeous men isn’t exactly the worst way to go.

Meg jumps when she feels something cold probing at her slit. Shivering, she nearly screams when she recognizes the barrel of the Colt that Sam favors. He laughs and flattens a hand against her belly to keep her in place while Castiel claps one of his hands over her mouth to keep her from screaming.

She freezes as Sam teases her opening with the firearm, running it between her lips and up over her clit. In the back of her mind she thinks that what Sam’s about to do is the sickest thing he’s ever done, that despite all the scenarios she’d imagined for her death, getting shot in the cunt wasn’t one of them, that what Sam’s doing can’t be good for the gun.

The thoughts fly from her mind when Sam roughly pushes the barrel of the gun into her, only giving her a moment to adjust before he pulls it out again. She can tell that his finger is on the trigger, can tell that he’s ready to kill her, but she moans against Castiel’s hand anyway at the feeling of the cool metal and writhes in her bonds, torn between wanting Sam to get it over with and kill her and wanting him to continue.

Castiel gently shushes her and presses soft kisses to the side of her head. “Relax, Meg. I love you, remember? We love you. Just relax.”

She tries to obey, but she can’t help moaning into his hand again when Sam moves the gun inside her. She strains against the straps keeping her hands pinned to the chair, desperate to reach between her legs. She kisses Castiel eagerly when he moves his hand away and seals his lips over hers. He wraps his fingers around her neck and squeezes gently. Spots swim across her vision and she hopes that Sam will have the decency to let her come before he kills her.

She wonders if Castiel will keep kissing her when Sam does it, if he’ll keep his lips sealed over hers as she screams and her life gushes out of her from between her legs.

Her ears begin to buzz and she can hear Sam saying something to Castiel. He moves one hand away from her neck, allowing her to breathe for a moment before he locks his fingers back around her throat. His other hand dances down between her legs and she screams into his kiss in pleasure instead of pain like she thought she would.

Meg sags in the chair, unable to gather the energy to brace herself for the gunshot. She doesn’t open her eyes when Castiel gently takes his hand from her neck and removes the blindfold.

Her anticipation turns into confusion when Sam, gently this time, pulls the gun away and strokes her face. “Hey, Meg? You okay up there?” His kisses her softly when she doesn’t answer. “Cas, I think you choked her too hard.”

She finally opens her eyes to look at him, just to see if he looks as amused as he sounds. He smiles at her and nods to Castiel, who moves to undo the leather around her wrists.

“What the Hell is going on?” she breaths, watching Sam kneel between her legs once again. He gently undoes the straps around her ankles and kisses the bruised flesh before moving onto the ones around her knees.

“Happy anniversary, Meg,” Castiel says behind her, gently lifting her from the chair and carrying her toward the bed.

“You’re not killing me?”

Sam smiles at her and sits on the bed. She curls into his body when Castiel transfers her to Sam’s arms and rests her head on his shoulder, breathes in the way he smells and takes in his warmth.

“Not ever,” Sam promises. “You made it a full year, Meg. You’re one of us now.”

Castiel climbs onto the bed next to them and leans against Sam’s other shoulder. “How about a shower and then breakfast? Slaughtering a whole diner sounds like a good way to celebrate our anniversary.”

“We should clean the gun first,” Meg mumbles against Sam’s shoulder. He laughs and kisses her forehead.

“Then pancakes. Can’t kill on an empty stomach.”

.

It turns out that there are only two things in the world that Meg Masters knows for certain.

And she’s just fine with that.

 


End file.
